»
Archives
»
Open Poetry #45
»
Tale # 40
| Open Poetry #45 |
|
Tale # 40 |
|
|
Gunslinger Senior Member
since 1999-10-09
Posts 901TX, USA 
|
Mayhap 'tis time, an' past at that- That I 'ung up me blade. An' sought to walk a quieter path, Pursue more mundane trade… To spend me nights beneath a roof- Not camped beside some trail. To raise strong lads, to take me place- Prolong the Traveler's Tale. Aye, lad, 'tis been a mort o' years- Since first I sallied forth… To try me 'and at fightin', Aye- East, west, and south, and north… I've strode the streets o' tropic towns- Drunk toasts in Moorish Spain- Four years I served afore the mast, Out on the Spanish Main. North Africa 'as been me berth- An' Inja's tropic clime- The Sudan states were once me fate, The lassies, ah, sublime! Me body bears the scars an' marks- O' arrow, ball, an' blade- But, Pah! Wha' else can one expect- When fightin' is 'is trade? P'raps I'll wait a wee bit more- Afore I doff me mail- I've 'eard they're 'iring fightin' men, So goes me Traveler's Tale. |
||
| © Copyright 2009 John R. Yaws - All Rights Reserved | |||
Alison 
since 2008-01-27
Posts 9318Lumpy oatmeal makes me crazy! |
Yep, that Traveler is a hardy, strong, brave man - who is just a bit of a tease. I think he's stringing me along like a puppet -- and know what? I like it. A |
||
|
|
⇧ top of page ⇧ |
|
| All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format. | ||
